The Player Next Door - Kathy Lyons Page 0,1

fun. But we’d have to get shots. You know how you hate those.”

She nodded. She did hate shots, though she’d suffer through them to go on safari. She had a secret love of African music but it gave Edward a headache.

“You’re right,” she finally said as she lifted up the book. “No safari.”

“Good—”

“I’m going to move into Aunt Mabel’s house.” She spoke it so calmly that it took a moment for her to realize that here was that storm of emotions bursting through her. Fury had such a grip on her that it had taken over the bulk of her body, making decisions and speaking them out loud while the rational part of her mind was relegated to a tiny shocked corner. Which was weird because she wasn’t even shaking and her voice sounded completely rational. But she was furious. She had to be, otherwise what she said made no sense.

Meanwhile, Edward’s head whipped around to stare directly at her, his expression darkening into an angry scowl. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to live in that ramshackle place.”

She grinned. “I know.” Then she walked away and bought her how-to book on sushi.

...

Mike Giamaria jerked in alarm, his only thought: WTF?

He’d been out for his third run of the day, enjoying himself as he zipped through Evanston, IL without being followed by the paparazzi. It was a pretty place as suburbia went, and he liked seeing chalk drawings on the sidewalk, a couple fat family dogs snoozing in the shade, and a woman dangling upside down from her roof.

That was when he jerked to a stop.

A woman—blonde and slender—swaying upside down from the roof. One foot was caught in the gutter, but the rest of her was hanging by a thin nylon rope tied to the chimney. She’d looped the cord through the belt loops of her jean cutoffs. Her T-shirt had drifted up to her nose, and while he watched, she stripped the thing off and let it drop lazily to the ground—another good ten feet below her.

He immediately started cataloguing thoughts. First the assets: creamy white skin, pink bra with a torn piece of lace, and a nice slender torso. Nice cleavage, he thought, even as his mind was racing through the cons. A too-thin nylon rope pulled taut, a ten-plus foot drop, and soft dirt that would still break her neck when she fell.

Holy shit, she was going to die.

That’s when his feet started moving again. He easily cleared the package of roofing tiles on the ground. Had she been roofing? Then he leaped over the sickly looking hedge to reach her side.

“Stay calm. I’m here,” he said.

Damn, she was too quiet. No hysterics, no screams. Had she fainted? He came up right underneath her, accidentally stepping on her dropped tee. Her head was tilted and her eyes widened in surprise when he came into view.

“Oh hello,” she said, her voice surprisingly cheerful. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Too busy taking a header?” he asked.

But she just frowned as she popped earbuds out of her ears. He could hear the rapid beat of drums, loud and clear. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Just stay calm,” he repeated, though she seemed bizarrely casual. He reached out to steady her, his hands settling on her shoulders even though they practically itched to slide over to her generous tits. The thought wasn’t appropriate, but he was a guy after all, and he wasn’t immune to the sight.

He waited a beat to refocus his thoughts. Besides, it was best to get over the sudden recognition and starstruck gibbering now. After all, he was a superstar athlete for the Knicks, recognizable even here in Chicagoland. After she’d calmed down, they could move on to deal with the situation.

But nothing happened. He’d flipped his hoodie back so she was staring full at his face. She just looked at him, her expression bizarrely serene.

Okay. So maybe she didn’t recognize people upside down. Or maybe she was a little more freaked out than she let on. Her jaw was rigid in the way of someone holding back fear while remaining outwardly calm. Either way, he had to get her down from there.

“Where’s the ladder?” he asked. Even with his busted shoulder, he could probably haul her up. But he had to get on top of the roof first.

“My car’s a Prius.”

“What?”

She frowned at him, then explained with a slow, patient voice. “No ladder. It was too big for my car.”

Ah. Right. He’d seen the powder blue thing